Hela Half Rotted and Dyggvi, the King of Sweden
by Atana
Summary: Queen Hela Lokisdottir journeys to Midgard and meets the Swedish king who would become Niflheim's king. My retelling of an old Norse legend...
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 –A TRIP TO SVERIGE

Hela Half-Rotted, the queen of the dead, couldn't care less about reaping. After all, Lord Death - who had given her the powers she required to rule Niflheim after Allfather Odin had thrown her out of Asgard - had also provided Hela with beings to do just that. However, when one is young (well, relatively young, that is - the Norse gods were not immortal but lived a good long while) and restless, it does one good to leave one's realm and roam about the Land of Midgard.

The death goddess didn't even know why she had chosen this land, or this city, or this day. There was some sort of festival going on and Hela readily made herself invisible to join the party; it would bring no good to anyone for her to cause people to run from her, shrieking at the apparition of a woman with a half-dead appearance. She sincerely hoped that she would do no reaping today.

Unseen and unheard, then, Hela wandered among groups of children (they made her laugh - she loved children and strove to make them happy when she could) and people doing tricks and women selling bread and flowers, for it was springtime in the land of Sverige. The lively cacophony of humankind made her heavy heart just a bit lighter as she rarely saw pink cheeks and quick movements and heard shouts of happiness and comradeship.

She hobbled in her serious way to the city square, where a man wearing a gold crown stood surrounded by family and friends. He must have been the king there, she supposed; his grand clothing and his jeweled fingers certainly bespoke of wealth and success. A finely-wrought sword hung from his belt. He was speaking to the people, and Hela stopped to listen.

It was not his speech that interested her; it was his life force. It circled him with a lemon-yellow shimmer that made her eyes - long used to gloom - hurt a bit. She squinted and smiled, if only to herself.

His eyes were a deep blue and his hair was chestnut brown and it fell in loose curls onto his heavily-embroidered cloak. His teeth were even and white. He was the most handsome man Hela had ever seen.

She took a seat on a stone wall and didn't even mind when a fat woman sat upon her. It was extremely rare that the death goddess smiled, but today she smiled and smiled.

And so it was that on that day Dyggvi Domarsson, King of Sweden, entranced not only his people but the goddess of death as well; this would prove to be both a blessing and a curse.

"He was glorious," Hela told her father Loki the Trickster, who had come to visit her in Helheim. "He really was. I couldn't take my eyes off him."

"Hm," Loki commented, rubbing his chin. He was surprised that his daughter was confiding in him thus; but who else had she to talk to? The shades of the dead? "And he rules the land of Sverige?"

Hela nodded. "Ah, it is too bad for me that he'll surely go to Valhalla when he dies instead of coming here." She sighed heavily. "He will no doubt perish in the field of battle, defending his land against its foes." She slumped and cupped her chin in her hand. "Just more bad luck for me."

Loki reached out and felt the skin under his daughter's crown. "Are you all right, girl?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she replied, affectionately batting his hand away. "He was just very pretty to look upon and I loved listening to him speak."

"All right then, my dear," her father said, eager to change the subject. Hearing about his poor deformed daughter's crushes always depressed him. "Let me tell you about an idea I had concerning Iduna and her apples - "

It was many years later that Loki Laufeyarson found himself in the land of Sverige, and he took himself to a battlefield not because he enjoyed seeing soldiers die but because he liked seeing the Valkyrior in action.

Like his daughter had long ago, the trickster situated himself on a stone wall and watched a while. His eyes fell upon the leader of the Swedes and the memory of his daughter's comments came to his mind. Why, wasn't this just the opportunity he was looking for? He had been heavy on the favors he requested of his daughter lately, and this might just cheer her up.

After the Valkyries had carted off their numbered souls and the Niflheim reapers gathered the rest, Loki scanned the survivors.

_Ah, there he was. Dyggvi Domarsson, as big as life._

Quite alive, grey and somewhat wrinkled but still hale and hearty. The trickster god smiled a great beaming smile and wafted over to the Midgard king.

He stood there a while, hovering about four feet off the ground, and listened as Dyggvi rallied his troops and congratulated them on another great victory.

The king didn't feel but a puff of air when Loki sneezed in his face.

This was unfortunate because Loki had recently visited the faraway Land of Rus, where disease now ravaged cities and villages alike.

The trickster did not bestow money or jewels or purple fabric as his tribute to King Dyggvi of Sweden, but _Corynebacterium diphtheriae _instead.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 – DEATH WATCH

Now, the folk of the fifth century certainly knew nothing about bacteria; indeed, all King Dyggvi knew was that he woke the next morning with a raging sore throat.

Soon, his neck swelled and he took to his bed for what proved to be the last time, surrounded by his wife and son and all his retainers.

The poor man's face turned blue as he struggled to breathe. As his wife clutched the doomed king's hand and his son fretted over ruling a kingdom he would rather not rule, Loki floated through the castle walls and began to whisper in the comatose man's ear.

"Greetings, King Dyggvi; I am Loki of Asgard, sending you greetings from the land of the dead, for it is certain that you will soon be going there."

The man could not speak and did not speak, but answered Loki with his mind.

"I have been a warrior my whole life, Lord Loki," Dyggvi thought. "Is it certain that the joys of Valhalla will be denied me?"

Loki snickered, which many would have considered inappropriate at the bedside of a dying man; however, Loki cared little about what people thought unless it somehow benefited him. "They won't do that," he replied. "If you die in bed, you go to Niflheim. No way around it, old man."

A tear rolled down Dyggvi's face, and his wife wiped it away for him with a handkerchief.

"However, I can make things easier for you."

"And why is the trickster god appearing before me as my life-skein runs out? Of what use am I to you?"

Loki snorted. "Well, aren't you the haughty one? I can appear before anyone I like. However, I do have an interesting proposal for you, Dyggvi. Awaiting you in Helheim is my lovely daughter Hela, who favors you above all others."

"Lovely?" Dyggvi thought, his left eye twitching. "Bah! She is half-dead! Why would I be interested in a woman who is half-dead?"

Loki laughed and slapped his knee. "Why, that is a good one, King of Sweden! A good one indeed! By the time you reach her realm, my friend, you will be dead on both halves!"

The man was silent for a moment. "True enough. However, I love my wife, Lord Loki, and my love for her will survive death."

Loki executed an eye-roll, which of course poor King Dyggvi could not see. "You know, Midgardian, all that about 'love is eternal' and 'love is stronger than death' is a load of caribou dung. When you cross over, you shed your memories at Modgud's gate in many cases. You hang around a while, seemingly corporeal but if you were in Midgard I suspect people would be able to walk right through you. For a little time longer, you still carry scraps of your life force with you until you shed those too, entirely. And at the end - you are nothing but spirit and can do nothing more than make your way around Hela's realm, doing what spirits do."

The dying man coughed, then gave a deep sigh. "That sounds unbearably grim, Lord Loki."

The trickster nodded emphatically. "Oh it is, King Dyggvi," he replied. "It is indeed. However, I can arrange it so that you can keep your body when you go to the land of the dead. How would you like that, now?"

"My old body, full of arrow scars and whatever disease plagues me now?"

Loki bent over him, waving his arms right through Dyggvi's son Dag, who sat weeping next to his father's bed. "Why, I wouldn't think that would be a very attractive bargain, my friend! But to have your body as it was - when you were young and at your very peak – for all eternity - what would you think about that?"

The king of Sweden sighed again. His family looked alarmed.

"And all you want from me is to court your daughter; is that it?"

Loki noticed that the man did not seem thrilled at the prospect, and immediately sought to sweeten the pot. "Oh, not just court, my friend; not just court! How would you like to rule in the realm of the deceased? How would you like to be - "the trickster leaned forward to whisper in the gasping man's ear - "king of Niflheim? You have already won my darling daughter's heart. That being the case, the realm can be yours as well!"

There was naught but silence from the dying man, who continued to gasp for breath much to his family's dismay.

Grimacing, Loki raised his hand and began to enumerate his child's virtues with his fingers. "First of all, while her left side is nothing to brag to the neighbors about, her right side is really most attractive. Second, she is loyal to a fault. Third, she wields the power of life and death in the Nine Worlds and would no doubt allow you to travel out and about as you desired. Fourth, underneath her rough exterior she has a noble and kind heart as anyone in Niflheim can tell you." Loki tittered to himself, remembering the souls in Nastrond. "Fifth, you would join the House of Loki!"

Loki grinned and whirled about once because that was the way he was. "I can offer you no better, soon-to-be-dead one! King in life and king in death! How does that sound?"

The trickster leaned forward in a predatory manner as if he wished to snatch the man's soul himself, looking every bit as wolfish as his son Fenrir.

Dyggvi was now _in extremis_. His wife held onto him as if to keep him from falling into a pit. His son wept. His retainers tore at their hair.

The dying man was torn. He certainly did not want to go to Niflheim but no other god of Asgard stood by whispering promises in his ear.

"Done," the man thought. It was his last thought in the land of the living.

"And done," Loki replied, grinning.

The trickster made haste to reach his daughter's realm before Dyggvi and his reaper arrived unannounced.

He burst into Elvidnir full of glee, causing Hela to nearly jump out of her skin."He is on his way, dear one!" Loki cried. "Your Dyggvi Domarsson!"

Before the death goddess had time to react, the honored guest arrived in her hall.

"May I present Dyggvi, former king of Sweden." Loki bowed and swept the air with both arms, unable to resist a bit of histrionics.

Dyggvi Domarsson stood before the queen of death and bowed solemnly, looking even better than Hela remembered him.

She barely managed to get the words out. "Welcome to my realm, King of Sweden.

"******

After Dyggvi had been shown to his quarters in Elvidnir (he was, after all, a royal personage) Hela Half-Rotted confronted her father.

"Are you insane?" she shouted. "You don't bargain away my life like that!" She paced the floor as fast as she could with her limp. "But then again, you bargained my life away before, when you consented to my being sent here in the first place. Why do I ever trust you? Ugh, you idiot!"

Loki flung himself into a chair. "Why, darling one, that is no way to address the father who cared enough to get you what you wanted. Dyggvi is more than willing to get to know you better. Imagine, not being alone for the rest of your days! The mere thought of it should take your breath away!"

"Speaking of taking one's breath away, why is Dyggvi still in mortal aspect?" Hela cried. "He walks and speaks like a living man, yet he does not draw breath. What have you done?"

Loki chuckled. "Why, what any loving father would do. I thought you would enjoy a companion. In fact, Dyggvi has agreed to marry you!"

At this, Hela's good side flushed a deep pink. Her embarrassment was beyond words. Instead of replying, she gave her father a good kick in the shin.

"Why, sweetheart," Loki gasped in pain, rubbing his leg. "You have once again convinced me that no good deed goes unpunished."

Hela regained her tongue. "You – fool! I am not your possession to bargain away at your leisure! What if I spend time with him and change my mind? What if he thinks me the most hideous thing in the Nine Worlds? Exactly what flight of idiocy crossed your mind, you blockhead, before you compromised my life yet a second time?" She became vaguely aware through the windows of her palace of the River Gjoll boiling furiously off in the distance.

"Well, you are mine."

At this, Hela launched a platter of fruit at his head. He ducked just in time.

"Don't worry, my darling!" the trickster crowed, leaping up from his chair and skittering toward the door.

"Get over here so I can strike you dead!"

"Calm down! You saw the way he looked at you!"

"Yes, like a condemned man looks at the executioner! I hate you!"

By the time these words left her lips, her laughing father was well on his way out of her hall and down the steps which led up to the entrance of Elvidnir.

For the next hour or so, the residents of Helheim had a very bad time indeed, experiencing thunder, lightning, tornadic activity, tidal bores, and earthquakes. It would take Hela Half-Rotted another week to clean up the mess.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 – WEDDED BLISS

As stormy days yield to sunnier climes, so did Hela's rage at her father slowly lower to a simmer. In the meantime, she was left with a man whom she did not know as her life's prospect.

Hela in many ways was as shy and withdrawn as a young girl, and she found it excruciating to be placed in such a position. To make things still more awkward, Hela was frankly afraid of coming under male scrutiny once again. Men and boys had turned away from her in horror or disgust more times than she could count. Nothing had changed; she still looked the same as she did when Otkel and Gunnar shamed her in Asgard years ago. Why should she think now that the machinations of her father would cause a handsome and esteemed man to fall in love with such as her? Why would her father have taken seriously the fantasies of a silly girl, and ones dreamed so many years ago?

In time, King Dyggvi became used to Helheim and to its ruler. Mindful of his promise to Loki, he spent long hours with Hela and shared his former life with her (at least the parts he could remember). He thought it odd that the queen of the dead insisted that he sit to her right as she did not seem the vain type; only later he realized that she was blind on her withered side. He gradually learned to accept her shortcomings and even to admire her for them. She was nothing if not brave.

True to Loki's words, Dyggvi had forgotten his wife and son, which was sad but the way of things in the realm of the dead. In spite of herself, the goddess came to enjoy his stories and responded with ones of her own. The fact that they shared different worlds added to their mutual interest, and in time Hela's self-consciousness eased and she became more comfortable in his presence.

In spite of it, building their friendship was a process that residents of the other realms would find excruciatingly slow. Although Dyggvi learned that the woman had a gentle heart and a loving nature, he was in fear of offending her inadvertently, causing her to withdraw further from him.

Finally, one evening the former king of Sweden had had enough.

"Look, Hela," he declared, grabbing her hands. She pulled away her left one; he held on tight. "I am interested in you and I think you have feelings for me."

She looked up at him, tears of anxiety welling up in her eyes.

"I came here to court you, and I have, but quite frankly, as a man of decision I'm tired of all this pussyfooting around. Do you want me or don't you?"

She was quiet a moment. "Of course I do. I have loved you since I saw you at that festival so many years ago."

"Well then," Dyggvi declared, pulling her close. "What are we waiting for?"

Over the next few weeks, the death goddess could scarcely believe her good fortune. Dyggvi had not only been forthright enough to tell her how he felt, but he actually thought she was lovely and charming and did not shy away from her face or her touch. This was a delightful treatment after her cold reception in Asgard. He did not mind her limp or her useless left side or her inability to speak as clearly as she would like.

On Hela's part, when his form or spirit began to dissipate, she came to his rescue and used all her powers to restore him to what he was the day he entered Helheim. She showered him with what proved to be a great untapped store of love in her heart, and his appreciation of her adoration of him was reciprocated in kind. The pair became closer than either of them reckoned, which surprised and delighted them both.

What Hela found most shockingly wonderful of all was that Dyggvi really had no interest in ascending the throne of Niflheim.

"I see nothing wrong with how you take care of things," he became fond of telling her. "I spent years performing such tasks, and retirement appeals to me."

He was happy enough being her consort; trailing her daily wanderings around the realm, watching her consign newly-arrived souls to their destinies, and witnessing her occasional rages against Odin or her father, during which times he usually ducked under heavy furniture.

"Well, things turned out well, eh, daughter?" Loki quipped while dining with them one evening. "Leave it to your old papa to take good care of you."

At this, Hela surpressed her own eye-roll. She had spent years being ignored, neglected, or overlooked by him, but it didn't seem to bother her as much as it once had.

In other words, the odd daughter of Loki was finally happy for the very first time in her life.

The wedding of Queen Hela and King Dyggvi of Sweden was the only day of celebration in the history of Niflheim.

Her father was her only attendant from Asgard. He showed up wearing an emerald green outfit bedecked with gold decorations. Hela herself wore a pearl and gemstone tiara he had brought her from Svartheim and a beautiful ermine cloak presented to her by Dyggvi himself. Her dress was made of an exquisite fabric called silk acquired from the eastern trade routes.

She never remembered smiling and laughing in joy quite so much at any other time during her sad life. Niflheim itself was blessed as well by an even yellow sky that day; Hela had specifically matched it to the color of her husband's aura. The spirits rejoiced because it was as close as it ever got to sunlight in the land of the dead. Even the souls in Nastrond had a reprieve, although Niddhog missed his daily rations. Hela was much beloved by the children of her realm, and they tossed handfuls of autumn leaves in her path as she and Dyggvi led their procession through Helheim.

She spent a good deal of time at the great feast that followed the marriage alternately hugging her father in gratitude and her husband in sheer relief and joy.

It did not occur to her at that moment that the path on which she now happily trod would lead her into serious trouble with Lord Death.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 – MY NAME IS DEATH AND THE END IS HERE

(a hearty nod to the character of Lord Death from "Supernatural")

Despite her dismal surroundings and depressing occupation, Hela thrived after her marriage. Contented year followed contented year.

She enlarged her kingdom – occasionally at the expense of Jotunheim's outer borders – but even the giants could understand that she needed somewhere to put Scandinavia's dead. Dygvvi Domarsson remained her foundation and support throughout the years, becoming more at ease with his unusual surroundings.

Both Thor and Tyr had been down to visit the pair numerous times, and Hela more or less forgave them for their rough treatment during their transport of her and her brothers from Jotunheim years ago.

She never heard from Jormungand, of course, but she visited her tethered brother Fenrir often. It was hard for her to forgive Allfather Odin for any of his cruelties towards them and since he made no effort to reach out to her, she put any thoughts of him and his kingdom out of her mind immediately.

"The old man is afraid to come down here," she told Dyggvi. "He's afraid I'll trap him like the rat he is."

Of course, Loki came down more frequently than Hela would have liked, not because she did not enjoy seeing him, but because he always had a list of favors to ask her. He ate and drank her hall empty every time he visited and snored so loudly when he stayed in Elvidnir that the old walls groaned.

Hela worried about him more than she admitted. While Loki was indeed a god of Asgard, he was a Jotun by birth and did not mind getting his fellow gods in all sorts of difficulties just because he could. Hela was a good deal more levelheaded than her errant father, and sometime she wondered who was the parent and who was the child.

Hela Half-Rotted had never met Loki's wife Sigyn, which she sorely regretted. She had been banished from Asgard before the two met. Sigyn always sent her love but was afraid to travel the perilous nine-day journey to the kingdom of death. Hela supposed they would meet some day.

It was a quiet evening in what would be considered early fall if you lived in Midgard (the seasons really followed neither rhyme nor reason in Niflheim, and that is the way it had always been).

The royal couple of the land of the dead had dined rather well in the company of a wealthy merchant named Sveigder Fjolnarsson who had just arrived in Helheim; Dyggvi had spent hours discussing the trade routes with him. It seemed that while the Norse and Danes relied on plunder, the Swedes preferred agriculture and trade. It was fascinating to a woman who had little idea of how things worked in the other eight realms. They had talked and laughed a good deal, which was unusual for Hela if not for Dyggvi. It was late, and all were exhausted and retired to bed.

Niflheim is nothing but silent. Consequently, one sleeps well and deeply, especially if one has a warm and accommodating spouse at hand. Hela, however, was awakened from her dream in the middle of the night by a sudden drop in temperature; she pushed her hair away from her face and watched her breath form in the air before her eyes. With a gasp, she jerked fully awake and looked. Before her stood Lord Death.

His eyes were as black as bottomless pits, yet he gazed almost benignly at her, interested.

Hela gasped for breath because much of the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Her heart began to thud as she suddenly realized that she and her husband were in grave danger. Dyggvi was her responsibility in the land of Niflheim and she took very good care of him.

She sat up and returned Lord Death's gaze. She knew why Death was standing there at the foot of her bed, of course.

It had been her father's doing, initially. He had reanimated the dead Swedish king with dark Jotun magic so that his little girl would not suffer from eternal loneliness, whether from whimsy, guilt, or a genuine desire to make his child happy. Hela had further violated the charms of making and unmaking by restoring Dyggvi's being whenever such actions were required, and by using a bit of her own dark magic at that.

Making the offense even more egregious was that Hela had been happy for too long; for centuries, in fact. Happiness and companionship and love were not meant for ugly half-dead monstrosities who deserved only to be shut away from the eyes of gods and humanity.

"Hello Lord Death," Hela said.

Awakened by the sound of her voice, Dyggvi rolled over and reached for her. When he realized she was sitting up, he opened his eyes. After a shocked few seconds, he stared at the specter at the foot of their bed.

"It's the end," he whispered.

"What?" Hela hissed. "What do you mean?"

Desperate to shelter him from the consequences of her own hubris, she wrapped her good arm around him and waited for Lord Death to speak.

The deity casually examined the room's furnishings and then locked eyes with the death goddess. "I'll tell you what he means, skinny little Hela Lokisdottir, ruler of this realm for three hundred and eighty-seven years. He knows what you know and have hid from Me for ages upon ages."

Hela clung tightly to Dyggvi and squared her shoulders. She willed herself to stop trembling in fear. A bitter taste rose in her throat.

"You need not ask why I am here as you well know already. You have violated the rules, my dear," Death intoned almost casually. "Your trickster father took a soul destined for eternal rest and manipulated it back into its dead body; a body that both he and you spared from rot to make it as fully functional as before it died. What lies next to you is an abomination."

He strolled around the bed, humming, stopping to gaze at Dyggvi.

_"Spells and tricks and pride and lust, half-dead one; what comes from that must fall to dust."_

"No!" Hela cried, her terror half-choking her. "He is my husband! I love him! He is so happy with me! Lord Death, please leave us to live our lives together!"

"Lives?" the specter chortled. "Forgive me for laughing, my dear! He is long dead. You only half-live yourself, little Hela Half-Rotted. Have you forgotten your nickname in your blissful haze? A jealous Ironwood witch cursed you in your mother's womb once upon a time out of revenge because she had wanted your father as her lover. Do you remember? She struck you quite dead indeed. It was only through the intervention of your mother that you were brought back, and even then she saved you only imperfectly."

Hela blinked hard. "No. I do not remember. You cannot make me remember such a thing. And even if I am half-dead, I am also half-alive -"

"Does it even matter in this realm, Queen Hela?" Lord Death queried. "There are no roses for you to smell; no spring breezes to caress your cheek. What use do you have for the living, when they only instinctively shrink from you in horror?"

"Please let me have Dyggvi," Hela whispered. "I have been so alone for so long. Please, Lord Death! I beg you!"

Death shrugged. "I do not understand you petty little gods," he remarked. "You and your carnal pleasures. Such things do not fall within my realm of interest or understanding. I'm sure you can continue your duties to Me without clinging to the dead scrap lying next to you. Probably better, in fact."

Hela quickly looked at Dyggvi and shrieked.

The man was trying desperately to speak, to plead for himself and his wife. His form seemed to ripple and waver; she could no longer feel him next to her.

Death tilted his head and gazed at him. "No, I don't believe I will let him continue in this - state."

"He loves me! Leave him with me! Please!"

"Silly little goddess! Your head must be as blighted as your body. You denied him the rest you freely give the other souls that come here," Death returned.

As he spoke, Hela felt her body start to freeze, starting at her toes and slowly coursing up her legs.

"You trapped him and deprived him of the eternal rest he deserved. You trapped him to please yourself and to assuage your own loneliness. Like father, like daughter; yes? Selfish to the end."

Hearing the tumult within the room, Hela's guards tried to batter down the door but Lord Death's presence turned them to vapor.

"And as for his part, this soul no longer merits lying next to a woman who loves him," Death commented, gesturing at Dyggvi. "Why should he enjoy earthly pleasures when his time for them has long expired?"

Hela gasped as the chill hit her abdomen.

Death raised his right hand. "It's regrettable that you broke the laws of life and death, Hela Lokisdottir. You of all people should know that what is dead should stay dead."

"I - will - do - anything you wish, Lord Death - " Hela gasped. Tendrils of ice pushed their way up her ribs, one by one.

"You swore Me your fealty once already and did not keep it; what else am I to do? You are as much a trickster as your father, but did you sincerely believe for a moment that you would trick Me?"

Suddenly, Death snapped his bony fingers and Dyggvi Domarsson exploded; his body dissipating not in a spray of gore but in a cloud of dust. A bright and tiny shard of light hovered above the bed and then shot away at the direction of Lord Death's bony finger.

Hela began to scream Dyggvi's name and continued until the chill hit her heart. She fell backward and screamed no more.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 - LOST

_Her name had been forgotten in the mists of time as she had existed long before Allfather Odin, yet Hela remembered her in her dream-state._

_She had been the death goddess of the Scythians, who had lived around the Black and Caspian Seas of Midgard as well as the Jutes and Cimbri from the Cimbrica Chersonesus who would come after them and from whom sprang the Norse race. She had ruled the death lands that would in Hela's time become known as Niflheim for many centuries before even Laufey and Farbauti were born. _

_The little soul that lay in Angurboda's womb had felt the touch of death as the curse knocked the life out of her; baby Hela had writhed as she was wrenched away, shooting into the drear sky of Jotunheim higher and higher until she saw stars even with her unopened eyes. Her little fingers wiggled as she stretched out her arms toward the lady who appeared before her, whose long white hair streamed out from her head in all directions until it blended with the smear of whiteness in the night sky known on Midgard as the Milky Way. _

_The death goddess had smiled at her and had reached out to catch her, but something hot and sharp and frightening had snatched her back. The baby shrieked silently through her unused throat as she had been pulled back at lightning speed until she slammed back into her mother's body._

_She had lain there stunned as her mother's frantic spellwork had pushed the death out of her, or as much death as Angurboda was able to vanquish. _

_By the time Hela had been born, she had been pitifully scarred indeed._

Hugin, Allfather Odin's all-seeing raven, had brought the news of the death goddess's collapse to his master's ears.

It would not do, Odin thought, to have the woman die; a dead ruler was just that and he needed someone to keep the souls in order. Hela had done an excellent job and had even curbed her powers and her desire for revenge upon him. After all, her father still dwelled among the Aesir and it was undeniable that the girl loved her father.

Hela lay quite still in her bed, her husband lost to her arms and her court in chaos. She wandered here and there in a place not entirely Asgard, nor Midgard, nor even Niflheim; she sensed she might be in the same place as her predecessor had gone, a second home universal to all who served Lord Death. Her only goal was to search for Dyggvi with his kind eyes and strong arms. She remembered, even in her fugue state, that he had been the only man who had told her he loved her. That sort of kindness deeply touches a soul and Hela's had been eternally marked by his essence. She had to find him.

However, she did not know where she was nor did she understand the language of the spirits that glided past her. Her heart broke as she searched and searched. Unknown to her was the fact that her body hovered on the cusp of life and death and that as she lay in her marriage bed unconscious and unaware, her father was frantically attempting to broker a deal with Lord Death to save her life.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 – THE BARGAIN

Of course, Loki had been immediately summoned by Allfather Odin.

"Loki, I have grave news. Your daughter received an unwelcome visit from the Deathbringer of all Pantheons."

The trickster's skin began to crawl. "What happened, Allfather?" he asked. Hela had told him how Death had frightened her when she was a girl, and her father had reason to be afraid for her.

"It was that business about Dyggvi Domarsson. You really shouldn't have dabbled in dark magics to get her what she wanted. I don't even know why you bothered. Hela really isn't cut out for relationships."

"Who said she isn't? She's done quite well for the last several hundred years, even better than you because she manages to keep from philandering like some people I could mention! But never mind! What has happened? Stop your infernal stalling, Allfather!"

"Lord Death reversed your efforts, it seems, returning King Dyggvi to the dust he would have been but for your interference. He struck Hela down with a lingering state akin to death as punishment; she lies unattended and unaware in her hall. Of course, I now have my hands full trying to manage the constant influx of souls. See what you can do, won't you?"

Loki sneered. "Such caring! Such empathy! Your support is so very deeply appreciated!" He turned and raced out of the hall, bent on exercising his considerable talents to save his own.

Odin did not reply, preferring instead to scan the kingdom of death with his all-seeing Eye. Perhaps he should ask Hades for help? The Greek death god's kingdom was rather sparsely-populated these days, after all.

The trickster quickly turned to his own dark gifts.

Even before he left for Niflheim to attend to his daughter, Loki Laufeyarson had conjured Lord Death on the summit of Mt. Galdhøpiggen. It had taken nearly every particle of life-force he possessed, but he did not mind sparing it. He had missed his daughter's presence in Asgard all these centuries and had always treasured her love for him in his twisted heart, though he was loath to admit it. It would be worth it to him on many levels to keep her alive.

_If this was love,_ the King of Lies thought, _well, then, so be it_.

"Ah, Lord Death," he said, sweeping low into a bow. "Thank you for seeing me.

"Lord Death towered over him. "You are but a dust mote in My eye," he replied drily.

"Excuse me, sir, but you've exploded my son-in-law and put my daughter in a coma. Meeting with me is the least you can do."

"Do not speak to Me of entitlements, dust mote," Death replied. "A creature like you is less than nothing to a creature like Me, who has existed since the beginning of time."

It took every ounce of restraint Loki possessed (which was not much) to keep him from firing off a sarcastic reply. Instead, the trickster decided to show the soft underbelly.

"I am a mortal creature and know I must die."

"Indeed," Lord Death intoned. "And the sooner the better."

Loki chuckled heartily. "That's a good one, Lord Death. A good one indeed. However, my daughter lies at the brink of death and you might just appreciate that my bringing Dyggvi Domarsson to her was simply a devoted father's attempt to make her happy."

"It is hard for Me to believe that a creature such as you would bother to make anyone happy."

Loki again bit his tongue; it became increasingly apparent that Lord Death was a bigger wit than he. Nevertheless, he continued to press his case.

"I myself brought Domarsson, ensouled once again in his rejuvenated body, to Niflheim. I don't recall becoming one of your soldiers nor taking your oaths, although my daughter did on both accounts. It is not her fault, so I'm sure you can agree with me that she should not suffer for her father's gesture of beneficence."

At this, even Lord Death executed an eye-roll. "Get to the point, dust mote," he grunted. "I have a meeting on a planitesimal some seventeen hundred light-years hence in five minutes."

Loki then decided he would try to appeal to Death's more humane side, which he only recognized much later for the insanity it was.

"Well, what of it? Why can't a death deity have a loved one on hand to keep him or her sane during their long years of servitude to you?"

Death grimaced. "I tried that about a thousand years ago with the Greeks. It was a headache. The most I will allow a death entity's special little friend is six months in the land of the dead and six months away from it. Any less than that, they whine. Any more than that, they become too used to lollygagging around and neglect their responsibilities to Me. And if the mortals of this or any realm tie such comings and goings to the changing of the seasons, then more fools they."

Loki tilted his handsome head and tried again. "Can we agree that I will serve some – minor – penalty for my deed? And would you also agree to restoring Dyggvi Domarsson to my daughter's side and bringing her unharmed from her coma?"

"Slim chance," Death replied. "You can do better than that."

"Well – let me agree to some – boon or deed that I can do for you."

"You are utterly worthless."

Loki winced. This was not going well.

"Oh, come! Surely there is something I can do for a being as exalted as you!"

Death's cold black eyes pierced the trickster god to his very soul. "There is, in fact. A sacrifice. A nice blood sacrifice; or somebody's life-force; or better yet a life-skein or two - every deity's favorites. Sacrifices make me happy. I don't know why; silly me."

Loki hesitated but realized that it was too late to retract his offer.

"First of all, Domarsson is gone and will stay gone. I will not bring him back to his former state because his former state was unnatural and went against the Way of Things. Second, if you wish to bargain for your daughter's life, you must give Me at least part of the lives of your other children to bring things back into balance. Balance is important to Me. It is vital for My personal well-being."

The trickster god hesitated. Sacrifice one child to save another? He loathed situational ethics.

"What say you, flatterer? Make haste; I refuse to be late because a smattering of dust and goo wants to hold My attention for one moment longer than absolutely necessary."

Loki was beginning to panic but was clever enough to realize that it was time to lay his cards on the table. "Very well," Loki replied testily. "I agree in concept, Lord Death. No problem at all. However, at this time my other children are – shall we say – indisposed."

"Indeed. One is in chains, one lies at the bottom of the sea, and the third stands in a stable enjoying a salt-lick. Two are who knows where. In the names of the gods of all pantheons, Loki Laufeyarson, what were you thinking?"

Loki waved his hand dismissively. A response would take precious time and it was clear that his daughter's was running out. "Let's say instead that you may have part of the lives of my children yet unborn in exchange for allowing my Hela to live."

Death shrugged. "If I cared a whit, I might haggle over whether or not you will have children in the future; however, I do not. With your track record in this realm it seems likely. Besides, a Horseman of the Apocalypse has better things to do than deal with a blithering idiot like you."

"Blithering idiot? Really?" Tentacles of electrically-charged mist began to creep from Loki's fingers.

"Oh, please," Death chided. "I have destroyed worlds."

The mist vanished.

The death being sighed. "So be it. Done and done."

Lord Death vanished.

Loki stood stock-still for a few minutes, shivering atop Mt. Galdhøpiggen. What had he done?

"Well, bother it," he thought; "I don't really want any more children and even if they come about, I don't have to fret about it now."

The trickster god was a heedless soul after all, believing more in enjoying the present than worrying about the future. His daughter – not his wife – was his blood and that, in Loki's egocentric world, was what was most important.

Besides, no one in the Nine Worlds – god or man or dwarf or giant – had a free pass to a long and pain-free life.

And so it was that Loki bargained away part of the life-skeins of Narvi and Vali, his and Sigyn's sons yet unborn.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – LOVE NEVER DIES

Hela lay unattended in her bed as many spirits surrounded her in helpless grief.

She was much beloved among her subjects not because she was beautiful or because she brought them fame or fortune, but because they could see the measure of her heart and soul as clearly as she could see theirs. The residents of Niflheim appreciated her care and comfort and it grieved them that they were unable to provide either for her.

No one was able to monitor her well-being until Hades arrived, leaving his wife Persephone in charge back home. Taking Hela's throne, he promptly ascertained the lay of the land in Niflheim and commenced dispatching the souls that had stacked up in her absence. Hades didn't mind; his followers had long since passed into extinction and few folks these days believed in the archaic Greek gods. He rather enjoyed being busy once again in the same trade he drove over a thousand years ago.

Other than washing his Norse counterpart's face and hands and making sure she was still breathing, there was little Hades could do for her until Loki and – _mirabile dictu!_ – his wife Sigyn arrived.

"How is she?" Hela's anxious father inquired.

"Much as she was when I arrived," the Greek death god replied. "I hope our Sister is restored to health soon. There are so few of us left on this earth, and I can't help but feel sad about that. It is unfortunate indeed that you people aren't immortal."

"Many thanks to you, old friend," Loki replied.

Hades turned once again toward Loki and Sigyn as he made his way down the hallway. "I really hope it works out for your girl," he said. "All of us fear Lord Death. He is a most stern taskmaster." He looked about almost furtively, as if he expected Death to appear and impale him with his scythe, and then left Elvidnir.

"Give me a minute to speak to the spirits," Loki said to Sigyn. Hela had granted him this gift during one of his prior visits in case it should ever become necessary.

He stood still while the spiritual remains of many people – some mere wisps, others glints of sparkling light, and some of insubstantial human shape – surrounded him and poured out their sorrows in their soft and otherwordly whisperings.

Loki and Sigyn both entered the queen's chamber and saw that Hela was beginning to stir.

Sigyn stopped to pick up Dyggvi's robe, which still lay on the floor next to the bed and sat down, hoping that her strange stepdaughter would return to her body.

"Wake up, sweet one," Loki whispered in Hela's ear. "I am here. Wake up!"

Hela opened her eyes and immediately squinted as the dim light of the room hit them. Confused and frightened by the sudden pull back into her body, she began to cry.

"Ssssh, it's all right," her father soothed.

She tried to speak to him but was too exhausted. She felt Loki smoothing her forehead. Her eyes searched the room for Dyggvi but she did not see him.

"He is gone, my darling," her father said. "Your Dyggvi. His spirit remains in Niflheim and mixes with all the others to whom you granted eternal contentment. I'm afraid, however, he has quite lost his memories of you and himself when he was your husband, just as his memories of his earthly realm and family were obviated when he crossed the River Gjoll."

Hela, still in speechless shock, trembled and wept as her father held her in his arms.

It took several days of Sigyn's loving care before Hela could even get out of bed.

Sigyn had bathed her and washed her hair and fed her the best she could, but her stepdaughter's heart was not into getting well or feeling better. Still disoriented – a common symptom that follows when one's soul has been ripped out of one's body – Hela had acquired a tremor and her left side ached worse than it ever had. Death had certainly done her no favors by paralyzing her fragile frame for weeks.

"Don't worry, dear," Sigyn crooned. "You will get better. I will see to it."

Hela was grateful to meet her father's wife and appreciated her care and devotion, but remained overwhelmed by the degree of recovery she had in front of her.

She had told her father that she would seek out Dyggvi's spirit as soon as her health permitted, but he had discouraged it, telling her gravely that it would be no use as she was only the queen of the realm to him now.

Hela finally summoned the courage to have her father acquire a mirror from Midgard so she could see for herself the toll Death's ordeal had taken on her. When she looked into it, she was immediately struck by the solemn and resigned expression her face had acquired.

Sad eyes, sad face, sad heart. It all stood to reason.

Sighing, she put the mirror into a basket where Dyggvi's worldly goods had been placed after their room had been cleaned out.

Loki came and went as Hela slowly recommenced her duties. This left the two women time to catch up and share what was in their hearts.

One day, Sigyn unburdened hers to her stepdaughter."Your father told me this morning that he does not want any children," she sighed, despondent. "He has many. I haven't even had one. It hardly seems fair."

"What brought that on?" Hela asked.

"I don't know. He murmured something about cheating death but I have no idea what he meant by it. Sometimes, your father utterly baffles me." The poor woman sighed. "Well, you have lived your life without little ones of your own; how do you cope?"

Hela sighed. "It wasn't my doing. I am not well enough to have children, I suppose. Lord Death told me my insides were twisted. No doubt of that," she sighed again, looking down at her spare and aching frame. "However, my post here ensures that I mother many souls, and all the time. Especially the children. They need me, and I love being around them." Hela looked up. "You can do the same – mother others, that is. At least until Father changes his mind. I'll do whatever I can."

"He's so – stubborn, although I do love him so," Sigyn replied.

"Ah yes," Hela replied, "but I can tell you from long experience that loving the trickster may be hazardous to your health and sanity."

Stubborn in spite of herself, Hela roamed the width and breadth of her enormous realm looking for the spirit of Dyggvi.

She found him one day after many months of searching, wafting about a group of trees by a serene lake. Hela had used her own memories of her Jotun childhood to create this area; its air even held the tang of birch bark. Needles crunched under her feet as she hobbled toward the soul of the man she had loved for so long.

When she reached him, he merely paid obeisance to her as the queen of Niflheim and thanked her for creating the forest, which was his favorite.

Her heart broken, Hela nodded in return and turned to begin her long journey back to Elvidnir.

Long after Loki and Sigyn had left Niflheim, Hela wandered Dyggvi's old realm on Midgard, looking for something that would remind her of the good times that were surely gone forever.

She visited the castle of Dyggvi's descendant, King Ingjald, but left quickly because she sensed a great evil about him. _Too bad,_ she thought; _Dyggvi would have been disappointed._

Continuing her mournful wanderings through Sweden to Västergötland, Hela finally saw something that would at last provide a fitting tribute to her husband. After she returned to Helheim, she called together the masons, carpenters and stonecarvers in the realm and they built her a great burial mound and a stone circle similar to the ones venerated by Dyggvi's ancestors.

All of Dyggvi's possessions were buried in the tumulus. Before the mound and circle a boulder of lemon yellow stone was placed, and upon it the carvers wrote:

_IN MEMORY OF _

_KING DYGGVI DOMARSSON_

_BELOVED OF HELA LOKISDOTTIR_

_OF THE HOUSE OF LOKI LAUFEYARSON_

_LOVE NEVER DIES_

Around it Hela planted a forest of birches and had a lake dug that resembled the one at which she last saw him. For many years she went outside and waited for Dyggvi to come back, but he never did.

THE END


End file.
